Love Is
by FlopsyOllie
Summary: Modern day TOKKA. Toph is living in a world of luxury on the outside, but harbors dark secrets within. Will a single boy be able to help her through it all? Most of all, will he be able to put to rest her warped meaning of love?
1. Chapter 1

**Love Is...**

_Okay, so here's my modern-day Tokka fic. I was struck by inspiration. There's no bending (unfortunately) and though I hate to change her character so drastically, Toph can see. Because let's face it, if she was blind she'd probably either go to a special school or have a helper (and what helper would really put up with Toph?). So her vision is just a little fuzzy. She needs glasses. Yay!_

_I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender or the book mentioned above. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction._

_Also, parts of Toph's life are VERY DIFFERENT in this story. You'll have to wait to find out, but you've been warned._

_Enjoy._

_- // -_

**Chapter 1: Lucky (Sugar Queens and Rock-a-holics)**

Hello, my name is Toph Bei Fong, and I am reportedly the "luckiest girl in the world."

Hardy har har, Katara. If only you knew.

She says this to me during study hall, absentmindedly twirling her hair around her finger and gushing over some boy she likes while I draw pictures of Principal Feng being beaten over the head with a stick.

"You're so lucky, Toph! You're a part of the richest family around, you have a ready-made boyfriend waiting for you, _and_ you can talk to anyone you want without being attacked by the popular kids!"

"Yeah, I'm just like a movie star," I say sarcastically. In the first place, I wouldn't exactly call my family a "family." More like three people forced to live with each other. Three people who hate each other. I can't wait until the day I turn eighteen, and I'm only waiting because it's hard to get anywhere without a high school diploma, "And a _boyfriend_? I barely even know Teo!"

"He still likes you," she shrugs, scribbling down notes on a piece of paper. _She_ has more boyfriend options than I can count. Aang, Zuko, Jet, and more (I just never bothered to learn their names). If she wasn't such an indecisive person there wouldn't be a problem, and I'd be spared from all these "best friend talks" during my last period of the day. Excuse me, but this is a time for relaxation. The calm before the storm. It's interrupted every other freaking day by Sugar Queen and her petty problemos.

"Anyway, I still can't believe what happened at lunch today! I mean, Zuko actually _looked_ at me! And he sort of smiled, you know? But I don't know if it was _at me_ or not…" When she gets like this, she usually forgets I was _there when the event happened_. I just try to brush it off an let her be. Wouldn't want to hurt her precious feelings, would we? "Why can't you just talk to him for me? Please?"

My friendship with Zuko is something not many people know about, mainly because once people see you hanging out together at school, they automatically assume that you're "interested" in each other. We usually meet up elsewhere, like at the park or the alternative music store, places most kids from school wouldn't dare to be seen. Katara only knows about this friendship because I admitted it once during some kind of stupid slumber-party we had. Sometimes I feel bad for her. She doesn't have many girl-friends.

"I'm not playing love guru," I say, pushing my headband back up and crumpling my piece of paper into a ball and tossing it at the trash can, "You figure out your relationships on your own. I'm Hothead's friend, not his matchmaker."

"Okay, Toph," she sighs, putting her head in her hands. I don't know why she gets so excited over these things. Sometimes I want to give her a mood stabilizer.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sugar Queen."

Katara swivels in her chair, her face lighting up as she stares at me, "Do you want to come over to my house this weekend? I was thinking we could go see that new action movie with--"

"I read the book. The producers totally white-washed the cast!" I protest, stuffing stray pencils and wads of gum into my backpack, "If they're going to adapt something, they should at least _try_ to keep a _glimmer_ of the author's vision."

"Then we don't have to see a movie. We can just go shopping or something."

"I'm flat broke."

"Then we can just hang out," she pouts, "You're starting to sound like you don't want to come over."

"And you're starting to sound desperate," I chuckle.

"You could just say no."

"I want to come over, Katara. I just don't know if my parents would let me."

"When are they ever going to let up? You're in high school now!"

"I know," I sigh. She doesn't know the half of it. Nobody does.

The bell rings and everyone scrambles from their seats. I follow Katara out of the back entrance to the school where we begin to walk home. Almost all of the kids in this place live close enough to walk. I'm glad I don't have to put up with annoying low-lives on the bus, but sometimes walking home is just as bad.

"So will your brother be there?"

"Sokka?" As if she _has_ another brother. Insert eye-roll here, please, "Yeah, probably. He never leaves his room. Why do you care?"

"Because he's a dork. I like making fun of him."

"Toph! He… that's… okay, he's a dork. But that's still not nice!"

"I'm not a nice person," I grin. She gives me a look and adjusts her backpack on her shoulder, "And since he's openly a dork, I have a right to mock him for it."

"He's not that bad. At least he's had girlfriends!"

"Who, Suki?! She's _twice_ the loser he is!"

"She is not!"

"Katara, she practices magic kung-fu. Totally _not_ loser material!" I say sarcastically.

"It's dancing with fans! That's… okay, that's _kind of _loser-ish."

"Thank you for agreeing with me!"

"But he had Yue! She was fine! Until… well, you know."

"Yeah," I say quietly. I never knew Yue; she was in the same grade as Sokka. She was murdered while vacationing at a ski resort because the guy didn't like her ethnicity or something. I guess he was going to shoot the whole place down, but she stepped up and gave him enough of a distraction until the police arrived. Too bad they didn't get there soon enough to save her. Katara says Sokka still talks to her sometimes.

"Anyway, make sure you ask and then call me tonight. You can walk over whenever you want tomorrow, okay? I'll be there."

"Okay, Sugar Queen. See ya around."

She turns to walk down another street in normal suburbia. I keep going, past the park and the rinky-dink general store to an almost gated community. They never actually got around to putting the gate up, but once you cross the line everyone knows you're in richy-rich-ville. The houses get bigger and more expensive looking, along with becoming more cold. There's something about money that just makes everything so uninviting. Or maybe it's just me. I'd rather be down the street at Katara's any day.

I open the door as quietly as possible, slipping off my shoes and tip-toeing through the entryway. My mother is sitting at the kitchen-table, leafing through bills, it looks like. Weird. Dad never lets her handle the checks. She's slightly insane. Literally.

"Your father is in the living room," she says, not bothering to look up at me, "With George."

George is like her imaginary friend. Except he tortures her or something, I think. She has another hallucination named Anastasia that bangs on pots and pans when she's trying to sleep and follows her into the shower. Weird, right? Told you she was insane. Maybe she inhaled too much opium when she was little. Her parents _did_ name her Poppy. Coincidence?

"Thanks," I reply with the same coldness, "I'm going over to Katara's tomorrow, okay? Probably all weekend." Hopefully, anyway. Her dad always lets me in. I hope he's just being a nice guy and doesn't know more than he lets on.

"Ask _him_, not me."

I always like dealing with my mom more than my dad. She usually just ignores me. She ignores _everyone_, in fact. Too many little oompa-loompas running around inside her head. She's the one who keeps the house looking neat and tidy, who keeps our 'image' nice and clean. She comes up with all the lies and facades (Probably with a little help from Georgie and Ana). She never yells and she never hits. I always approach her first, always hoping for a different answer even though it's always the same. _Ask him._

I'd really rather not, but thanks so much mom! Have a nice day. Just go ahead and turn a blind eye while you throw your daughter to the lions. Love you too. Ha, ha, ha.

I walk into the living room, feeling the energy build up in my feet, preparing to run. He's sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand (with no George in sight, might I add), the TV blaring. I stand just far enough away to be out of reach, not that distance will stop him.

He barely even looks at me before going back to the screen. I decided to just go for it.

"Can I go to Katara's tomorrow? I'll probably spend the night, too. I--"

WHOP. I keep my feet planted firmly as he slaps me across the face. Right across the fucking face. What if I bruise? What am I suppose to tell people? Oh well. I should be used to it. I shouldn't bruise so easily anymore. Suck it up and deal, you big baby.

"Let's try that again," he says, his eyes still not leaving the TV. Bastard.

Boiling with anger, I get down on my knees. I was hoping he had forgotten. He was drunk when he said it. I only agreed so he'd let go of my hair. Hair pulling, especially when you're being suspended in the air by it, _really _hurts.

"May I please go to Katara's house tomorrow, _sir_?"

I sit and wait for his answer. Every second kills me. He takes his time thinking it over, fiddling with the can tab of his beer and changing the channel a few times. I imagine myself punching him in the face over and over and things feel a little bit better.

"Go ahead," he says after what seems like hours, "Just get out of my sight."

I run up the stairs as fast as I can, the energy springing from my feet through the tips of my toes. I take the stairs two at a time and burst into my room, locking the door behind me. The curtains are drawn and the bag of chips I snuck upstairs last night is still laying on the floor. That's dinner a'la Toph when you're banned from eating that night. I don't even remember what I did anymore. I never seem to. The rules change fast around here.

I flop down on my bed and try to start my freshmen algebra homework, but my head keeps swimming. My face sort of hurts even though it only looks a little red in the mirror. I squint my pale green eyes to judge the situation. If the color doesn't go down by tomorrow, a little cover up should solve my problems lickidy-split. My appearance problems, anyway. Make-up: the abused girl's best friend. Thank the Lord for _Cover-Girl_.

I pick up my cordless phone while flipping through quadratic equations and dial Zuko's number.

"Hello?" a voice asks coldly. I know by the feminine tone that it's Azula. If Zuko's dad ever picked up, I'd probably hang up the phone. He's even more freaky than _my_ dad, and that says something considering my dad hits me on a daily basis. You'd think anyone who didn't hurt me would be the equivalent to an angel. Maybe it's just because I know Zuko's dad hurts him too.

"Is Zuko there?"

"Yeah, one sec," she sounds like I'm inconveniencing her entire life by asking her to give the phone to her brother. I don't think it's that hard, "Don't bother calling this weekend. He's going to his mother's."

I've always found it funny how Azula doesn't address her own mom. She freaking loves her _dad_, the money hungry child abuser, more than her mom. Actually, I'm not sure if she capable of love at all. It's not like her dad loves anybody. I just know she's there because of choice. Zuko's there because his dad won in court. He'd much rather be with his mom.

"Hi Toph," Zuko says, "What's up?"

"Meet me at the park?"

"Only if you bring the rocks," he chuckles slightly.

"Only if you bring the slingshots."

"Deal. See you in a few."

I place the phone back in it's cradle and begin to search for my bag of rocks. I've been collecting rocks ever since I was little. I don't really know why. A few years back, Zuko and I got the idea to try chucking them across the field near the park. It's what we usually do after school. Hang out and sling rocks. It's a good way to relieve stress, I guess. I've thought about making targets with _certain people's_ faces on them, but that might look a little suspicious.

Once I find the rocks, I try to slip out of the house quietly, yet I still end up getting yelled at and hit in the face again. This one feels black and blue. When I'm safely outside I can start running. I run all the way down the street and towards the park. When I get there I sit on the swings and wait for Zuko, kicking off my shoes and floating side to side, the chains creaking slightly. I've always hated wearing shoes. I like to feel the ground underneath my bare feet. If I can feel it, I know that I'm really here and this _isn't_ a nightmare. I'm not going to wake up because it's really, unfortunatly.

After a few minutes Zuko shows up, out of breath and carrying two slingshots under his arm. He's cradling his wrist lightly so I won't notice.

"Sorry I'm late. I had some… business to take care of."

"Don't worry," I smile slightly, "I took a few detours, too."

We've always acknowledged each others family troubles, but never addressed them. We both just deal with it. Abusive fathers go with the whole "rich power money" thing, I guess. It's kind of like both our dad's hit us, so we bonded somehow. I trust him with everything I have.

"Your face looks kind of purple," he comments, grabbing a rock from the bag and inserting it into the slingshot.

"Your wrist doesn't look so great either, buddy," I pull the rubber sling back and hurl a rock across the field. The sound of the pressure being released rings in my ears.

" 'S not so bad. I can still move it."

"And I own way more cover up than anyone needs. Besides, no one is going to touch my face."

"Never said anyone was going to touch my wrist."

"One of your many fangirls might try to ambush you," I grin. He groans, "So you're going to your mom's this weekend?"

"Yeah. I hope he's not too bad to Azula while I'm gone."

"Why do you care? She's a bitch!"

"Yeah, but she's a bitch because of him. I mean, she actually _loves_ him, Toph. That's so messed up. All he's done is push her her whole life, and she tells herself that it's cause he cares. At least he just beats me. He's screwed with her head."

"Yeah, I guess I'd rather be physically screwed than mentally," I sigh.

"You're _so_ funny," he says sarcastically, "That's not what I meant."

"But it _is_ what you said," I laugh.

"Your dad doesn't… does he?" Zuko asks quietly.

"No. He fucks with my mom so much that he doesn't need me," I mutter. If he ever touched me like that, I think I'd seriously think about telling someone. I hope, "Your dad doesn't… to Azula, does he?"

"I don't think so… And thanks for caring about _me_, Toph."

"Sorry. Your dad just doesn't seem like the type who's into little boys."

He laughs, his hand reaching up to tuck his hair back and absentmindedly brushing against his scar near his left eye. He tells everyone that he was hit with a baseball when he was little, but I know that it's not from playing T-ball. You'd never know Ozai was so fond of sports.

We shoot the breeze for a while, tossing rocks and bitching over our families. Once the sun starts to set, we pick up and begin to walk home. As I'm finding a few more rocks for my collection, I feel like someone's watching me. I look around for Zuko, but he's waiting for me by the road, preoccupied with bending his wrist back and forth. I turn towards the playground to see none other than Katara's brother, Sokka, sitting on the merry-go round staring at me.

Damn it. He better not have seen my face. I glare in his general direction and then turn quickly and run to Zuko.

"Let's go," I say coldly, walking up the road before he even registers I'm there.

"What's wrong, Toph?"

"Nothing. I just remembered I have to make dinner. He's cranky when the food is late."

Zuko doesn't ask questions, even though he knows what time I eat. We've snuck out enough to have each other's house schedules down packed. At least there's some truth to the lie. Daddy dearest _will_ be angry, although the time of day never matters.

- // -

_Thanks for reading everyone!_

_It may seem a little out of character for Toph to be abused. I just want to clear things up now instead of people having to ask (or maybe no one cares. Oh well. I'm telling you anyway. Sorry. Just skip over this and hit the review button, then.)_

_I obviously changed the fact that Toph was sheltered all her life. In my story, it's more like she was thrown _into_ the world, though I'm trying to keep her character the same. Anyway, if you think about it, Toph's parents are a very rich family and everyone knows them. They want a child that can live up to their life; essentially be perfect. Instead, they get Toph. Even though she isn't blind in this fic, they still find imperfections in her (because she's HUMAN, after all). Because Toph can't reach these high expectations, her parents are very angry and disappointed. And, you know, they're psychos. This is where the abuse comes in._

_Now go away and review! Sorry if I bored you to tears. Or if my explanation was obvious…or stupid. Whatever. There will be Toph/Sokka interaction in the next chapter! Promise._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Boy Bands Suck (and so do Boys and Bands in General)**

It's only around eight a.m, but I'm already awake and dressed and packing for Katara's house. I have clothes and a toothbrush and all the cover up in the world. I'm smearing some all over my face right now, rubbing the powder in tiny circles. I wince slightly every time I have to touch the bruise, which sucks because it's the place I need the make up the most. This shouldn't hurt, even though it does. I should be used to it. Suck it up and _deal_, Bei Fong.

I smudge some charcoal black eyeliner on underneath my eyes just to please Katara. She's always complaining that I should act more like a girl and wear make up. If she only knew about the pounds of face paint I plaster on every stinking day. Maybe then she'd shut up. Oh well.

Dad left about an hour ago and mom is still sleeping. I'm free to do what I please. Since no one is around to say anything, I cook myself eggs for breakfast and spread peanut butter all over them. Usually I'm banished to cold cereal. For extra effort, I even drink orange juice out of dad's favorite mug and then hide it in the cupboard with the spices. I'll get shit for it later, but it's worth it. Don't I deserve a little revenge?

With my morning shenanigans accomplished, I set off for Katara's house. The streets are pretty quiet this early in the morning. There are a few people out watering their plants or reading the newspaper or something, but besides that there's nothing. I look up the hill towards Zuko's house. He's probably left already. Both of us always want to get out as soon as possible.

Katara isn't as rich as me and her house is much shabbier, but it's ten times more friendly. She's got a patchwork garden out front and her house is painted white with a bright blue trim. The curtains are always open and lights are always on. It feels so warm and loving compared to my house. You'd think they'd be a little more depressed after losing their mom.

I knock on the front door and wait patiently. Katara's dad opens the door, pretty cheery for an old guy at eight in the morning. Then again, aren't most adults happy in the morning? Besides my parents, but they're never happy.

"Hello, Toph," he says, moving over to let me slide through the doorway. I kick off my shoes immediately.

"Hi, Hakoda. Is Katara awake yet?"

"I think she just got out of the shower. You're certainly an early riser today."

"Yeah, well, I had nothing else to do," I shrug.

"I was just cooking breakfast, if you'd like some. French toast," he smiles. I get a warm, fuzzy feeling in my gut, and wish I could live here all the time.

"Thanks, but I already ate. Although knowing Katara, I'll be back," I leave the kitchen and go upstairs, bursting into Katara's room and throwing my backpack onto the floor, "Okay, Sugar Queen, I'm here to party! Let's get to it!"

She's standing over her bed in her bathrobe, staring at two shirts. They're perfectly ironed and folded. Figures. She's always been the princess of clean.

"I can't pick which shirt to wear, Toph!" she agonizes, holding both of them up.

"They look the same to me."

"Just because they're both blue doesn't mean they're the _same_!" Katara is always annoyed with my lack of fashion sense, "This one says I'm cute and innocent, but _this_ one says I'm hot and… not an idiot."

"Well… which impression are you going for?" I didn't know shirts could say so much about a person.

"Are we going to see Zuko today?"

"No. He's at his mom's."

"Then I'll go with cute an innocent. It'll make Aang happy."

"Yeah, cause Aang's _real _cute an innocent," I mutter. Katara changes into her clothes happy as can be. She usually ignores my comments about her boyfriend prospects. It bugs the hell out of me, since it makes everything less interesting. It's so much fun to annoy her.

"Is my dad making french toast?" she smiles, pulling her hair back into a perfect braid. I blow my bangs out of my eyes and fold my arms across my chest. She always complains about my hair, too. "It's always in you face, Toph! No one can see your pretty eyes!" Excuse me, but she doesn't see me telling her to change all the time. Okay, maybe I _do_, but at least it's about worthwhile stuff. Why should I care about my appearance? I have bigger things on my plate.

"Yes, Sugar Queen. Bacon, too, by the smell of it."

"I'm surprised Sokka isn't down there yet," Katara says, her brow furrowing, tiny little lines wrinkling her forehead. It's amazing how she still looks perfect even when she's frustrated. I could never look like her. Not with my face (and not to mention, secretly, my emotional state) being marred by abusive nutcases all the time. She turns to look at me, still frustrated, "And why is your face so pale today?"

Oh, just the fifty million pounds of shit all over my face, thanks to my dad.

"I'm always this pale," I lie. She never questions me. I don't know if she just trusts me or she's stupid or what. Oh well. Less explaining for me.

"Whatever. I'm going to go get some breakfast. You want any?"

"I already ate."

"Okay. Can you get Sokka out of his room, then? He won't listen to me."

"As you wish, Sugar Queen," I say dryly. No problem, dragging her idiot spying loser of a brother out of his room. I bet a puppy would put up more of a fight.

As Katara bounces down the stairs, I stomp down the hallway to Sokka's room and knock forcefully, "Up and at'em, Snoozles! The day awaits!"

There's some mumbling behind the door, but no response.

"Your dad cooked bacon for breakfast! Don't you like freaking meat or something?!"

More shuffling than I would've expected. Still, this isn't worth my time. I throw the door open and step into a room that is almost as messy as mine. And that's a hard thing to do.

"What do you want?" a voice mutters from underneath pillows and blankets on the bed. Some crappy music is playing through his stereo and he has posters on the walls of girls in bikinis and what appear to be some kind of scientists. Weird. I would've pegged him for the wannabe loser skateboarding type. There's a picture of his mom on his desk and newspaper clippings. The obituary maybe? There's probably something about Yue up there too. How… morbid.

"Your dad says it's time for breakfast," I say, sitting down on the edge of his bed and putting my feet up, "This place is a mess. Do you even own a closet?"

"As much as I enjoy being woken up by my sister's friend in the morning," he picks his head up from the pillow and suddenly I can see Sokka's face. He's been part of the background ever since I met Katara, but I've never talked to him much, "Get out of my room."

"You know, you'd think that you'd keep this place a little cleaner, considering you never leave."

"I'm serious, Toph. Go away."

"Ooh, you're _scary_," I wiggle my fingers in front of my face and then stand up to kick around some of his clothes all over the carpet, "I think I can see every shirt you've ever worn on this floor…"

"Toph-"

"What's wrong, Snoozles? Am I disturbing your beauty sleep? Sorry, but I don't think it's going to help much."

"If you don't get out of here right now-"

"You'll what? Bore me to death with how much you know about the history of sword fighting or something?"

"Toph!"

"Are you gonna cry now?" I say in a baby voice and wait for him to start screaming. Instead he looks kind of confused and starts staring at me.

"Hey, you're face isn't purple anymore!"

My mood drops from "happy-devious" to "angry-murderous-suicidal".

Great. He remembers. Just what I need.

"Shut up."

"What, did you get in an argument with a dinosaur?" he smirks. He knows he's caught me. This surprisingly wakes him up.

"No. The Easter Bunny, actually. Thanks for asking."

"It looks like it put up a fight. Did you murder it because it didn't give you enough eggs?"

"He was getting on my nerves. Bunnies tend to have that effect on me."

Sokka sits up in his bed and stretches. He's just wearing a pair of boxer shorts and his hair isn't in it's usual ponytail. It's not like I've never seen him without a shirt before. So why do I keep _looking_ at him? Idiot. I need to shut up and stop thinking. I _can't_ like him. I've got other things to worry about.

"So where'd that bruise go, anyway?"

"I'm magic," I say monotone, squinting my eyes, daring him to keep going.

"It's not like it healed already. Did Zuko punch you in the face?"

"No!" I growl, "And speaking of which, what were you doing spying on me?"

"Hey, it's a free country. I can go wherever I want."

"Maybe. But stalking is illegal."

"Who says I was stalking you? Maybe I just like merry-go-rounds."

"And maybe you're just a freak."

"Oh, please. If I was a stalker, I wouldn't stalk _you_."

"No, no. Of course not! You'd just steal pictures of me from your sister and gaze at them longingly in your room all day."

"I've got better ways to waste my time."

Is he calling me ugly? I could deck him. Not that I _care_. Ugh. I attempt to change the topic so we can stop talking about my _face_.

"What are we listening to, anyway? You actually _listen_ to this shit?" I laugh, "This is some whiney boy band! They _suck_!"

"Hey, I don't judge _you_!"

"Really? Doesn't everybody?"

"No."

"Ha, ha. No wonder you never leave your room, Snoozles. This whole world is filled with stereotypes and cliques and _expectations_. If you're not what you're suppose to be, you get shot down. Don't you know that?"

"I don't listen to what other people say," he smiles. I glare at him, but he glares right back.

"Neither do I."

"So why are you telling me all of this?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to educate another idiot. So sue me."

"Today's idiots will be tomorrows geniuses. Just because I don't judge people doesn't mean I'm an idiot."

"That's a lie. _Everybody_ judges everyone else."

"Lying is my expertise."

He thinks he's won. He thinks he's better at the game than me. No way. If he thinks for one second that he could never beat me, he's tragically mistaken.

"Join the club, Snoozles. Join the club."

If only people like Sokka knew what a liar I really am. Maybe then he'd know that he doesn't belong in the exclusive club of liars. The one for liars that actually have things to lie about. Oh, what happened to my arm? I tripped. Why aren't my parents here for the meeting about my grades? Well, see, my mom's sick, and my dad had to work late. And yeah, my face is bruised because I got in a fight with a bunny who poops eggs. No, no, you can't come over. My mom hates people coming over and the house is a mess and it's boring there anyway.

Lies. Lies are simple. Lies are easy. Lies make the world shut up and keep the demons at bay. I can't imagine any reasons that Sokka would need lies. Not any good reasons, anyway.

"Toph?"

"What?!" I snap, coming back from my zone-out. He's standing up and is in my face, even though he's about two feet taller than me. I sneer up at his perfect, stupid, blue eyes.

"Where are you and Katara going, anyway?"

"The mall, I think. She wants to flirt with Aang or something."

"That weird vegetarian kid?" I nod curtly, "Geez, my sister can't date a vegetarian kid!… Oh well, I wanted to look for some new music, anyway."

"Wait. You're _coming with us_?!"

"Why not? You guys need a chaperone. Besides, if it annoys you, then all the more reason to go!" he grins and pokes me in the face right where my bruise is. I bite my tongue to keep my face straight. Sokka looks confused when he sees creamy white powder dusting the tip of his finger.

"Toph?"

I grab a fistful of clothes and hurl them at his face, "Put some clothes on, you ass!"

I storm out of the room and into the bathroom to check my make up, never once letting my face scrunch in pain.

Stupid idiot spying loser. I'm going to kill him. He's tried to see me. He's actually tried to (literally) take a stab at who I really am. And for that he must die.

- // -

_Peanut butter and scrambled egg sandwiches are really good! Thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Snoozles is an I-D-I-O-T (and the Bandit's in D-E-N-I-A-L)**

The walk to the mall is short, but it feels longer because of Sokka yapping in my ears the whole way and Katara continually saying "Shut up, Sokka". It makes me happy that I'm an only child. It also makes me dread that I told my parents I was staying with Katara all weekend. Kind of, anyway. I don't want to have to deal with them screaming at each other for two days.

When we finally _do_ reach the mall, Sokka insists that he needs to stay with us. Katara wants to go find Aang, but Sokka wants to go look at music. I don't really care where we go as long as it means they stop fighting.

"I'm older, so we should go where I want!" Sokka is protesting. He looks like he's about to stomp his foot or something, just like a girl.

"But you're only here because of us! No one is forcing you to stalk us all day!"

"I don't trust you with that weird kid!"

I snort, "You don't trust her with Aang? I bet Aang doesn't even know what sex _is_! I'd be much more worried when she goes after Zuko."

"What?! _Zuko's here_?!"

"Calm down, Snoozles. He isn't. If he was, do you really think she'd be wearing that shirt?"

"Yeah, you have a point…"

"What's wrong with my shirt?!" Katara asks self-consciously.

"Nothing. I'm sure Aang will _love_ it. Considering he probably still thinks babies come from a stork," I laugh and Sokka follows suit.

Katara glares at us, "You guys are so mean!"

"The truth hurts, honey."

She starts ranting about her shirt and that Aang is really nice, except not as hot as Zuko, and blah, blah, blah. It'd be priceless if the squirt walked up while she was blowing a gasket.

"I'll just go by myself! You two can do whatever you want!" she stomps away, her braid smacking against her back after every step.

"Hey, I'm not staying here with your brother!"

"Well you aren't coming with me! Have fun _bonding_!"

She gets far enough away that I can't shout anymore. I'm left standing there dumbstruck while Sokka grins wildly.

"Guess you're stuck with me!"

"Not exactly. You can't force me to stay with you."

"Well, I probably _could_-"

"_No_. You couldn't," I say forcefully, turning to walk away. He grabs my shoulder, but I just push him off. Hopefully he won't follow me around all day. I'll be able to escape eventually.

"Come on, Toph. It won't be any fun by yourself!"

"Of course it will!" I fake sweetness, pushing through crowds with Snoozles riding my coattails, "I won't have a giant, blubbering idiot chasing me anymore!"

"Hey, I'm not!… oh, nevermind…" he gives up and concentrates on keeping up with me.

"You know, since you're so happy about this, I'm starting to reconsider that stalking idea."

"Better things to do with my time, Toph. Way better things."

"Really? Is that why you broke up with your fan-waving bimbo of a girlfriend?"

"_No!_ She just… we… why am I even explaining this to you?!"

"It's part of not being able to confess your undying love for me. It makes you subconsciously blurt out every other secret you have."

"Ha-ha," he says dryly, "I'm going to start thinking you're using reverse psychology, and that _you're_ the one who loves _me_."

"Keep dreaming, Ponytail Boy," I snort, "I've got better things to do than worry about whether 'my heart beats for only you' or whatever."

"Sure, Toph. Whatever you say."

I growl in his general direction, spotting the music store out of the corner of my eye, "You gonna go in there or what?"

He turns to look, "I guess so."

"Well you were bitching about it earlier."

"Yeah, I know."

"So… let's go then?"

"Okay."

I don't know why I'm following him around now, or why I'm even suggesting that we go in this stupid store. I don't know why I'm even at the freaking mall. As if I ever have any money. Sure, my parents are loaded, but that's _their _money, not mine. Once a year they might give me some cash for new clothes (after all, their daughter can't be seen looking like an orphan child! Though I might as well be), but besides that I'm broke. I'm not allowed to have a job; I'd be out of _daddy's_ sight for too long. If I ever dared to steal from their stash, I'd be beaten within an inch of my life. I don't know about anyone else, but that doesn't sound like too much fun, so I've never tried. The need hasn't aroused yet. I hope it never will.

"Toph? What do you want to look at?"

"Don't care. I don't really _do_ music."

"What do you _do_ then?"

"Usually only boys, but-"

"That's not what I meant," he says. I snicker, following him around the store.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't be with you if you were the last guy on Earth."

"Oh really? What female doesn't want a piece of _this_?" he smiles, flexing his muscles. I stare at him, squinting my eyes.

"Would you like me to start a list?

His face falls, "Why do you always have to attack my self-esteem?"

"Because it's fun," I sigh happily, "What else am I suppose to do? Have a _tea party_ with you?"

"I don't like tea much."

"Me neither."

"You don't like _anything_."

"Nope."

He smiles, and I'm sort of glad for the bruise on my face. Without all the cover-up, he'd be able to see me blushing. I'm not exactly sure why the hell I'm blushing. I don't have _time _for blushing. I can't go and let myself fall into some kind of stupid fairytale romance. Not that I know any. Fairytales, that is. Come to think of it, I don't know of any romances, either.

In grade school I threatened my fellow classmates to explain some fairytales to me on the playground, but I could never understand them. Pumpkins that turn into coaches? Glass slippers? Pigs living in houses? Kittens with mittens? That isn't reality. How could they believe such things? Life has no talking animals or seven dwarfs. There are no princesses or mermaids or dragons. It's all a lie. Reality is being slapped across the face when you're a bad girl. Reality is sleepless nights with a rumbling stomach, bowing down to your own fucking father like it's the twelfth century or something. Reality is _real_, and there is no Prince Charming to save you.

I find it pathetic that while my peers were allowed to live their lives and dream all day, I was forced to know the truth. I've known the truth since I was so little I didn't even know what 'truth' really _meant_. I couldn't even read yet. I probably couldn't even form complete sentences, though I remember my mother spending hours at the table trying to teach me things. If the wonderful daughter of the Bei Fongs was going to kindergarten, she was going to be _good at it_. She was going to be better than all the other children. I wasn't allowed to have any dinner at night if I complained about how the words made my eyes hurt. Funny, they want me to be perfect for them so bad but they're too cheap to invest in a pair of glasses. Oh well. I don't want to look like a nerd anyways.

"I didn't know you wore make up, Toph."

"Huh?" What's he talking about _now_?

"You've got powder all over your face. I saw it when I poked you."

Oh. Why can't he just let this go? It'd make my life a hell of a lot easier.

"Yeah, well…"

"Is that where the bruise went? You want to look pretty for the cameras?"

He's mocking me, but I don't feel like fighting with him. Not about this. Wouldn't that look too suspicious? "Something like that."

"I never thought looks were very important to you."

"They're _not_," I protest, feeling my cheeks grow hot. Thanks, Cover Girl!

"Then why do you want to hide it?"

"Because people ask too many questions. They'd probably think I was abused or something," I laugh, effortlessly making it sound real. As if I wasn't spewing the truth for once, "_Right_."

He looks at me for a minute, and I'm worried that he knows I'm lying. But then he laughs too. I feel relieved and suffocated all at the same time, but I don't know why. Damnit.

"Right. As if."

Good. Because why would one of the richest kids in town be abused? Her life must be perfect. Not one freaking care in the world.

Good job, Sokka. Keep on believing the lies like the rest of the world. You play your part and I'll play mine. Just great. Just peachy.

"Well, lets go to the electronics store. Maybe after a beat you at Guitar Hero, you'll tell me where that bruise came from."

Just what am I getting myself into?


End file.
